Who doesn't catch the occasional swarm?

Another part of the doctor visit was him checking my skin for weird orbs which might indicate Lyme's Disease. There were of course a bunch of weird marks on my legs from catching that swarm of bees about five days before.

"Oh, those are just bee stings. Don't mind those."

"Really? How do you know?"

"Well, I remember, because I was catching a swarm of bees."

"You were-- wait, what?"

"Catching a swarm of bees. And I got stung. Here, here, and here. I remember."

"Say that again? How do you catch a swarm of bees?"

I was too tired to explain, so I let the five year old apprentice do it:

"First, you smoke them, like this-" and she showed with her hands--"and then you spray them like this--" more hand motions, "and then you get them in the box and you make them stay, and ..."

Another doctor walked in, and my doctor made Little Z explain all over again about the bees to the second doctor, who was ostensibly there to look at my butt. I felt like we were getting a little bit sidetracked, and what's more, the other doctor clearly thought we were insane.

Then they just started inviting more people in to look at my backside and poke me with sharp thneeds. Which is what everyone, everyone, everyone needs. A thneed, in this context, is a long pin with a hollow tip that gouges out pieces of your flesh. You see? Just what everyone needs.

Here's an unrelated photo of a 100+ year old merry-go-round: